


a car, a torch, a death.

by worship_the_trees



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worship_the_trees/pseuds/worship_the_trees
Summary: Hawke unburdens his family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based off of the song "A Car, A Torch, A Death" by Twenty One Pilots because I'm a piece of shit who still thinks song fics are cool. Magic and everything exists, the fic is set around the time Hawke and family leaves Lothering but I've taken some creative ((angst)) liberties. Still deciding wither or not I should make this a full fledged fic. Hope you enjoy! ^^

He sat in his car, parked, windows down, head resting on the steering wheel. The cool night air was thinner than most nights and it held a weightless quality. It didn’t stick to anything. Nothing floated. Everything felt heavy. Hawke’s hoodie was too thin and was doing a poor job of keeping the cold out. But it didn’t matter; he was numb. If he started the car, if he would just leave already, maybe this would be easier.  


He cast a glance at their house. Soft light spilled out of the window; someone left the TV on again. It was probably Carver. Hawke fought off the urge to leave his car and run inside and turn it off. Something held him back, something told him if he went up those steps, he’d never be able to leave them, not with Bethany curled into a ball on the sofa or the sound of his mother’s snores drifting down from the upstairs. He needed to leave and he needed to leave now. Gently as one could, he started the car and pulled out of the drive way. He didn’t turn on the headlights until his family home was only a small spot in the distance.  


For the first time in years, Hawke was truly alone. Family always surrounded him, comforting and protecting him. He had no one to talk to, not that he could stomach talking to anyone after the crime he just committed. How could he open his mouth, when he felt like puking every time he saw headlights heading south? His mouth stayed sealed shut.  


What he was doing, leaving in the middle of the night, was for everyone’s good. Medicine was never supposed to taste good, alcohol was never meant to feel pleasant when cleaning wounds. It’d hurt at first but the pain would soften with the realization that they’d never have to jump at loud noises or that they could stop habitually look behind them to see if anyone was following. They wouldn't have to tense when the phone rang or when they past their local chantry. His family was innocent now, hands clean, and he wished that could ease his mind.  


He drove for hours, tensing when he passed checkpoints, holding his breath when he went over bridges. Every part of his body screamed for him to turn around, to go back, to head for safety, but Hawke would never do something that selfish. He couldn’t let himself be a burden again.  


The Blight hadn’t reached the east yet but the beginnings of neglect had begun to settle into the smaller towns, stores boarded up with the Grey Warden’s oath in dripping red letters. A dark promise to the dark spawn. That was all they had. Others had chosen to stand their ground, their defiance spelled out in lived in spaces: you’ll have to make us leave. Hawke’s family was the latter. He passed empty towns, entire towns who retreated further east. The atmosphere was unsettling; he drove faster.  


It was nearly light when he saw the glow of the port in the distance, the sea looked black and forbidding in the lack of light. It was too late for him to turn back now, his die was cast, his fate was written in stone. Hawke parked his car away from street lights and locked the keys inside the car with a letter written on the back of a napkin with a spare pen. The backpack he carried was filled with the bare necessities: lyrium potions, clothes, his father’s grimoire, one of Bethany’s old sketchbooks, and a dagger. Provisions. A fake passport. Cash. Necessities.  


There was an odd sinking feeling when he closed the door one last time, almost as if he was at the beginning and the end of something. Any thought of returning home was long gone; he was in momentum. He ran his hand through his hair and grimaced one last time before he left his heart in the still car. 

As soon as Hawke’s car pulled out the driveway, Leandra stood at the mouth of her house and watched her son leave her nest. The air was still and the night held its breath. The only thing to move for miles was his car, the sound of it lurching farther and farther away from their home. She stood still as a statue, weighed down by the severity of it all. When she saw the headlights flick on, the world shook and she fell to her knees, sobbing.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to set-up the world state, this time featuring Fenris.

Inhale.  
Fenris leaned against a brick wall in an alley tucked away from the roar of the city and far, far away from the man who chased him halfway across the world.  
Exhale.  
The smoke billowed around him and engulfed him like an embrace and he was safe, not that he could feel it, not that he could feel anything that wasn’t the cold sting of the thin winter air. He tapped the ash off of the cigarette.  
Inhale.  
Moving to Kirkwall was worth it, there was no doubt about it. The city was huge and swallowed his frail body whole. In the alienage, he was like any other elf in the city with his dead eyes and broken back. No one saw the design etched into his skin or the scars that crisscrossed his back and if they did, they didn’t ask because they didn’t care. No one in Kirkwall cared about anything that wasn’t themselves, something that was a blessing and a curse.  
Exhale.  
A scream drifted down the alley, the location close enough for Fenris to be worried but far away enough for him to ignore if he tried hard enough. He only had three more hours until he could go back to his small, damp apartment in the aleinage. He’d sleep for a couple of hours and wake up for his job at a corner store grocery. Maybe he’d have time to eat something.  
Inhale.  
The screams were more coherent now, more jarring in his ears. _“Where’s my fucking money, huh?”_ There was a sickening crunch. Fenris winced. _“What’s that? Damn straight you’ll get my fucking money. You have until the end of the week.”_ If he wasn’t so tired, so heavy, Fenris would fly to the rescue. But there was bags under his eyes. But he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks. But that chapter ended years ago. He had more important things to worry about.  
Exhale.  
He flicked his cigarette away and pulled the collar up on his jacket. The neon lights danced at the end of the alley, full of life and the roar of the city dulled out the man’s screams from the alleys. Without a second thought, Fenris turned away and returned back to his shift.


End file.
